Serious Moonlight
by BreathOfNocte
Summary: A short-and-sweet oneshot about what happens when you mix inordinate amounts of fluff, goblins, and eggnog. JS, COMPLETE, REVAMPED


**AN: **Finally, the edited version! How long did this take? Five months? I am so horrible. Really, it's shameful. Go ahead, rap my knuckles. I deserve it.

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**Disclaimer:** I know there has been a rumor going around about a raffle for ownership of Labyrinth, but I have checked into it darlings, and I regret to report that it is naught but lies. Everything still belongs to Henson and crew.

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**Serious Moonlight**

As I scaled the frozen, ivy-choked lattice on the side of my parents' house, I wondered if perhaps things might be easier if I simply _asked_ for help, but the idea had barely formed before my pride spontaneously combusted and went on a raging streak of flaming death, slaughtering the traitorous thought and all of its like-minded brethren.

There was no _way_ I was asking _him _for help, when I looked like _this. _

The howling blizzard had fairly well coated me in snow, which, as a result, had demolished my stylish hair-do and plastered my sopping clothes to my skin, giving me the delectable appearance of a drowned goblin. I would have given just about anything for a nice warm bath and a mug of hot chocolate, but my pride smoldered menacingly at the concept of giving up and appearing so weakly feminine and ridiculously needy, so I kept on climbing to the second story outcropping with grim, dignity-fueled determination.

"Honestly, who puts a freaking spare key on a freaking roof, anyway?" I snarled as I dragged myself onto the shingled ledge. "This has to be the most _ridiculous_ idea _anyone_ has ever had…"

Crawling carefully through the snow, I irritably felt around for the small metal box my father had welded to the side of the house, swatting snowdrifts out of my way and probably looking extremely suspicious. I sincerely hoped none of my parents' nosy neighbors had chosen this particular moment for a good round of peeping.

"Oh, for _Hoggle's sake_, where is that _friggin' box?_" I yelled, giving a snowdrift a decidedly violent swat, and found my desired target as I smashed my frozen fingers into it.

"YEE-AHOW!" I hollered, and fell back, clutching my poor, abused fingers. Glaring at the little metal obtrusion, I snarled every curse I could think of that could apply to a steel box, and kicked vindictively at it. The evil little box stoically endured my lashings, because deep down, it knew it deserved them.

As uncontrollable shivering began setting in, I realized that I could hear the phone ringing inside. The storm had made me over an hour late, and that was probably my parents calling because I had missed my check-in time.

I retrieved the key as quickly as my stiff, shaking fingers would allow, and declined use of the lattice in favor of hanging from the mock roof and dropping the few extra feet.

However, I didn't count on the ice underneath the snow, coating the roof.

Rather than lowering myself over the edge and dangling from my extended arms, I slipped as soon as my knees hit the edge, and practically _flew_ off the ledge with a surprised squeak, landing rather ungracefully on my rump in the snow below.

Snow does not offer much in the way of cushioning, particularly when it has several layers of ice hidden throughout it.

"Oh. _Ow._" I gingerly hauled myself to my feet and hobbled toward the door, praising the Gods of Dubious Good Fortune that at least I still held the key.

After forcing my frozen fingers to cooperate, I wrenched open the door and _dove_ for the phone, picking it up as I skidded by it and slipped, landing on my bruised bottom again.

"Ah-haaaooow…" I whined, and flopped back on the hardwood floor, raising the receiver to my ear and closing my eyes.

"Hello? Sarah? Are you there?" crackled my Dad's voice worriedly.

"Hey, Dad."

"Oh, good. Listen, I have some bad news. We're stuck at the airport. Our flight got canceled, because of the storm, and we're going to have to stay here overnight," he said, and I found that I wasn't actually surprised. Everything else was going horribly, why shouldn't this too? After all, Karen was involved, which meant that nothing was going to be cheerful and/or pleasant, anyways.

"That makes sense, in a pessimistic way," I said.

"What? Honey, I think you're breaking up."

I sighed heavily. "Nothing. Keep warm, sorry about your flight. I'll see you when you get here," I said, trying to keep it concise.

"Alright, sweetheart. Sorry about all this. Did you want to talk to Toby? I know you really missed him," Dad offered.

"No, really, it's alright. It's not like you can change the weather. I understand," I said reassuringly, squeezing my eyes as tight as I could and imagining that I could feel a fire roaring in the fireplace, rather than the ice water trickling down my neck.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? I'm really sorry. We'll do our best to get there tomorrow," crackled the staticy voice on the other end of the line.

I sighed.

"Well, don't hijack the plane or anything. I'm a big girl, honestly. I'll be alright by myself. All alone. In this big, scary house that's three times the size of my apartment, at least," I said, purposely moping. "Oh no, there aren't ghosts here, are there? Or spiders? If there're spiders, I demand that you defy the laws of physics and get here immediately."

My dad gave a long-suffering sigh, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes. "Alright, alright, I get it, you'll be fine. I'll call you tomorrow," he relented, and I smiled.

"Love you, Dad. Give Toby a wet-willy for me," I requested, and sighed as I hung up.

I really didn't want to spend the night here, alone.

Growing up, I hadn't really had that good of a time at home - I didn't want to be here, and my family didn't really want me to, either. Karen and I had fought like cats and dogs during my teenage years, which made everyone else just as miserable. We still loved each other, but it was the sort of love that fared better when you didn't _live_ together. I'd moved out the minute I'd turned 18, and by the time Christmas rolled around, we had all been apart long enough to be glad to see each other again.

Plus, it was way easier to hide the species of my fae boyfriend from my parents when I lived several hours away.

Hauling myself up off the floor, I tottered over and shut the front door against the storm, and dragged myself up the stairs to change into the warmest, fuzziest pajamas I could find, before coming back down and building an obscenely large fire.

Once I was dry, relatively warm, and resembled a human more than a sullen wet cat, I snuggled down into the couch with a thick fleece blanket, and set about finding something to blame for my misery. After going through my usual list of suspects (goblins, Jareth, magic, the person who invented alcohol, and the person who invented pizza), and deeming them innocent in this particular case, I decided on Mother Nature.

I snuggled in my corner of the couch, casting the inclement weather outside a baleful glare. Stupid snow.

Heaving myself up off the couch, I kept my fleece blanket wrapped tightly around me and shuffled to the window to better observe my foe. It danced and skipped across the windowpane, taunting me with its lighthearted joviality.

"This is your fault," I accused, jabbing a finger at the fluffy whiteness obscuring the night outside. "I'm all alone on Christmas eve, in a house that holds nothing but unpleasant-to-mediocre memories, without even the comfort of eggnog, because you had to go and make transportation of any sort impossible. You could at least have the decency to not look so cheerful," I chastised. The wind slowed for a moment, considering my reproof, but lightly brushed it off in favor of continuing its disgustingly carefree merriment.

I glowered.

"Fine. Be festive and jolly. See if I care," I snapped, and shuffled back to the couch to huddle and wallow in my humbuggery.

"Oh dear, someone's grouchy," said a mildly concerned, clipped British accent from behind the couch. I didn't look away from the window and the gallivanting cause of my misery it revealed, by now used to Jareth's unannounced, spontaneous arrivals. Besides, if I looked at him, I was sure the copious amount of glitter his arrival had generated would blind me.

"I'm allowed. Dad and Toby," I paused, "and Karen," I added, hoping she didn't sound like too much of an afterthought, "got held over in the airport. They won't be home tonight, and I doubt if they'll be home tomorrow, either," I said, and sighed heavily. "This Christmas is gonna suck," I groused.

Jareth leaned on the back of the couch, bending over to peer at me. "I still don't completely understand the significance of seeing your family tomorrow, as compared to seeing them a week from now. It will still be unbearably cold outside, they will still be as affectionately irritating, there will still be gifts to exchange, and you will still be irrationally stubborn about hiding me from them," he said in a perfectly reasonable tone, and I turned my evil glare on him instead.

"It's Christmas. It's the one time of the year when everyone stops being jerks to one another, puts aside their grudges and is nice and caring and honest, and thinks about other people for once instead of just themselves," I said in what I considered to be an extremely tolerant fashion, and ignored his needling little comment about my stubbornness.

Honestly, what did he really expect me to say? 'Hey, Dad, Karen, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend. He's not human, but he's royalty, so it's okay'?

"Well, that seems rather inconvenient. Why would you only do this once a year? Once a month seems like a rather better idea, especially since so many people seem to have been stranded by one thing or another," he wondered, lightly hopping over the edge of the couch and settling next to me.

"Well… Because…. That's just not how Christmas works. Besides, the other part of Christmas is hanging around your family for an obscenely long time and exchanging gifts, and I can't stand Karen more than once a year and I doubt anyone makes enough money to go around giving gifts to everyone they know once a month," I replied.

"Oh, yes, money. Sorry darling, I forgot you humans are so concerned with that," he said, waving a hand dismissively. I rolled my eyes at him. Apparently, being a). the King, and b). extremely good at magic, made trivial things like money virtually insignificant.

He winked at me.

My face automatically began smiling back without my consent, and though I tried to turn it into a wry twist, I doubt that I was entirely successful.

He grinned and held out his arms. "Cuddle time?"

I rolled my eyes and wriggled deeper into my corner of the couch. "Feh. You pop in, make fun of my holiday, get glitter all over the couch, and then expect me to cuddle?" I said derisively, slanting a glare at him. His mismatched eyes widened in a criminally adorable manner, and his bottom lip trembled in a perfectly executed Pouty Face, which he knew from experience was something of a weak spot for me. I quickly looked away before my insides could turn to warm mush.

"But, Sarah, my love," he wheedled, "it's _cold_."

My insides puffed in a mushy manner, but I resolutely kept my gaze averted.

He sighed and snuggled closer to me, trying to weasel his way under my blanket. I held firm and refused to relinquish control of my heat source.

"Come now, Sarah, let's not be stingy. Have some Christmas spirit and all that," he chided unconvincingly.

I snorted. "You're not allowed to use something you don't understand as a guilt mechanism," I told him. "And you're a cover-thief."

He cocked an incredulous eyebrow at me. "Why, I would never!" he protested, his hair fluffing in offense. I scoffed.

"Hah! I call bluff, Your Highness," I retorted, and snuggled deeper into my blanket. "You do too, and you know it. I have my perpetually frozen toes as evidence."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well, if you would just snuggle properly with me, it wouldn't be such a problem," he countered.

"I would, if you didn't try to strangle me!" I snapped.

"As I have said before, if you would simply introduce me to your family and stop pretending I do not exist, I would stop trying to subconsciously keep you from running away from commitment!"

"And as _I've_ said before, if you would pretend to be human, I'd have less of a problem introducing you to my parents!"

"Which is _quite_ silly, because I look absolutely ridiculous as a human, and it would fool no one!"

"And statements like that _really_ don't help your case!" I yelled, and crossed my arms with a huff. From the corner of my eye I saw Jareth imitate my reaction in a mocking manner, tossing his poofy blonde head in the universal mime for nagging.

I kicked him, _hard_, and he flew off the couch in a decidedly un-kingly manner, landing with an _oof_ in a pile of presents.

The sight of Jareth, mighty and stylish King of the Goblins, sprawled on my parents' living room floor, surrounded by knocked over gifts and tangled in garland, was far too much for my grouchy demeanor to handle and I promptly dissolved into giggles.

"That is _it_," he snarled, extracting himself from the mess and clambering to his feet. The garland wove itself around his arm and tugged him back down in protest, and I laughed harder as he fell back with a yelp of surprise.

"Here now, stop that!" he commanded, and the garland wilted, dropping back down to the floor as he regained his feet -

But wound around his ankle and nuzzled his leg, tripping him when he tried to move.

Tears ran from my eyes and I clutched my stomach, immobilized with laughter.

"Leave off, you blasted plant!" he said, shaking his booted foot. The garland squeaked and coiled tighter around his leg, the little holly bells dotted across it waving excitedly as they were tossed around.

I hung half off the couch, too weak with mirth to do much more than wave a hand at the decoration-imprisoned king and plead mercy.

"_Enough,_ already! I demand that you release me!" Jareth yelled, and his assailant seemed to sigh, unwinding itself from the Goblin King and twisting itself back among the presents. Jareth climbed to his feet and turned his heated gaze on me.

"_Now_, precious thing, you _are_ going to cuddle with me, and you _will _enjoyit," he said imperiously, and stalked over to the couch. I put up as much of a fight as I could manage, though there wasn't much conviction to it - really, now that I was less grumpy, cuddling with my favorite tight-panted fae sounded like a lovely idea.

After a bit of wrestling, wriggling, and more than one elbow to the ribs, I sat snuggled between Jareth's outstretched, long legs, my head against his chest and his arms wrapped around me while we sat watching the fire.

"I'm sorry your family won't be here for your holiday," Jareth said after a moment, idly running his fingers through my hair. I sighed, though it may have been more in contentment than remorse, and toyed with the sleeve of his shirt. I could never decide what sort of material it was closest to - suede, silk, or fine-spun cotton?

"It's alright. We can still do Christmas, it'll just be a little late," I said, and squeezed his arm lightly. He kissed my hair in response.

"What would you do normally, on Christmas eve?" he asked quietly, so that I could ignore him if I didn't want to answer. I didn't mind, however - it seemed a good deal more difficult to be upset when I was wrapped up in warmth and pillowed on a decidedly attractive king.

"Well, usually we would spend a good bit reading _The Night Before Christmas_, which would take three times longer than necessary because Tobes and I always act everything out, and then we would have hot cookies and milk and watch the snow for a while, catching up with each other. Before bedtime we each open one Christmas present, and once Dad and Karen go to bed, Toby and I sneak back down and set up a trap for Santa Claus," I said, ticking things off on my fingers. Jareth considered this for a moment, and I spent the time wondering which of his Thoughtful Expressions he was using - Lips Pursed? Brow Furrowed? Eyes Distant, with a touch of Timeless Wisdom?

Peeking up at him, I felt my stomach drop as I was confronted, not with Deep Pondering of Important Issues, but with Twinkling Mischievity.

"Oh, crud."

* * *

No less than twelve goblins were rolling around on the living room floor, each and every one absolutely _covered_ in soot.

"_Gabash-a-clanker!" _one of them screeched, running around his brethren with admirable agility. A goblin with a bright red, fluffy hair scrunchy around his waist leapt up and clobbered the screecher with a slipper.

"No, no, no! _I'm the a-clatter!_" He objected, and promptly set about raising a respectable amount of his claimed title.

I rubbed my temples.

"Really though, darling, for _goblins_, I would say they are doing an impressive rendition," Jareth said, draped gracefully across my Dad's lazy-boy recliner and sipping eggnog. I rather suspected his opinion may have been influenced by the three previous cups of eggnog, each with a heavy dose of rum, which he had magicked to himself via his creepy-but-undeniably-useful crystals.

And was hogging all to himself.

I may have been a little miffed that he was hypocritically denying me alcohol after inflicting goblins on my living room.

The goblins paused, looking at me expectantly.

"Oh, yes, a _wonderful_ job, guys," I agreed hurriedly. Jareth's eyes glinted merrily as he drank his alcoholic beverage. I clenched my fists and began plotting the revenge I would extract on His Drunken Nibs later.

"Now, what was is you usually do next, love? Something about coo-"

"_**NO!" **_I yelled over him, throwing myself at his chair and clapping a hand over his mouth. I could feel him laughing beneath my preventative measures, and I glared warningly at him. The _last_ thing I wanted was a bunch of goblins hyped up on cookies running loose, and I was going to _kill_ Jareth for even _thinking_ of suggesting it.

The goblins looked between themselves speculatively.

"Coo? What is coo?" A small fellow with a tinsel beard pondered, stroking his shiny facial hair thoughtfully.

"Cooping chickens?" another offered. He was promptly slipper-slapped.

"Who would want to coop up chickens, dummy?" demanded the scrunchy-wearer.

"I'z just guessing," he said defensively, rubbing his head.

"Cooling fireys?" another suggested, eyeing the slipper-wielder warily, incase his comment was also ill received. The scrunchy-wearer deemed his input acceptable, however, and nodded thoughtfully.

"Or comparing toe polish?" piped Snig. I tried not to grin at her. Being the only female goblin I had ever met, or even heard about, I had of course bonded with her especially well. Our frequent girls-only-slumber-parties had transformed her into quite the fashion guru.

The slipper-wielder wisely did not discredit Snig's suggestion, but ignored it all the same.

"Or coloring pictures!" squeaked a tiny, bug-eyed goblin excitedly. I noticed there was a red crayon lodged in his right nostril, and what looked suspiciously like colored wax in his teeth. I hoped Toby wasn't too attached to his crayon set.

Jareth nipped lightly at my fingers, and I withdrew them with a '_watch your words or I'll make you eat them'_ look.

"Coloring, I do believe, sounds like an excellent idea, Pip," he said, and he arched a '_did you want them to keep guessing and land on something destructive?'_ eyebrow at me.

I reluctantly nodded in agreement, though goblins armed with crayons was nothing to scoff at. I was going to have one hell of a time minimizing Goblin Damage…

"Alright, stay here, guys, I'll be right back," I said wearily, and set off to locate Toby's coloring books and the least harmful coloring utensils I could find, or at least the ones that were easiest to clean out of things.

I hoped Toby would forgive my sacrificing his stuff to the goblins.

* * *

"You really ought to be honored, precious thing. I'm fairly certain this is the first goblin fashion show in history," Jareth said, clearly more amused at the situation than he should be.

I blamed his steady consumption of alcohol, which he was _still_ unfairly hogging.

"Maybe I would be, if I was as drunk as you," I snapped.

Jareth scoffed. "I am hardly _drunk_, my love. You must remember that I have a much better tolerance for alcohol than your race," he objected. "Besides, I am not imbibing for the purpose of intoxication."

I cocked an eyebrow. "But, rather, for the joy of denying me while you indulge?" I quipped, mocking his accent.

He sighed dramatically, and pressed a kiss to my hair. "You wound me, darling. Think you so little of me?" he asked, holding a hand over his heart. I rolled my eyes.

"Drama queen," I accused. Jareth winked. "Fine, then. Why _are_ you drinking, but not letting me have any, if not for the sheer enjoyment of gloating?" I humored. "Even though it is _my_ house you unleashed goblins on," I added. Alright, so technically my _parents' _house, but still.

Jareth leaned close, grinning in a particularly irritating manner, and tapped my nose. "_That_, love, would be _telling_."

I growled at him, which had the unintended result of making him laugh. I glared harder.

"Shush, my darling. The show is starting, and goodness knows I don't want your little fashion protégé over here chastising us."

I glowered a bit more, just for good measure, but as I didn't want to incur Snig's wrath any more than my royal pain-in-the-ass boyfriend, I ceased my attempts at drawing any sort of useful information from him and concentrated on the goblin parade before me.

Every goblin in the house was dressed up like an elf.

Apparently, Snig had decided that the outfits in the coloring books I had supplied were the height of fabulous, and decreed that for the Rest of Forever, it was mandatory that each and every goblin wear a similar ensemble.

And because, though they may not be brilliant, the goblins had enough self-preservation instinct not to argue with her, that was exactly what happened.

I considered Jareth and myself lucky that we had escaped her fashion dictatorship.

One had to admit, however, that for _goblins_, it really wasn't so bad. In fact, I might go so far as to call them… _cute_. Most everyone had jingly little shoes and hats, and either a coat or suspender-trousers trimmed in tinsel and puffy white cotton. Several unfortunate fellows had been made models for frilly, glittery dresses that Snig no doubt had in mind for herself, but aside from those, it was a decidedly adorable improvement in goblin apparel.

Jareth and I clapped and catcalled appreciatively from the relative safety of the couch, until I had a sudden stroke of genius, and turned on the radio for some music to accompany the show. And, of course, once both music _and_ clothing were involved, it was only a matter of time before Jareth could no longer resist the temptation and joined in himself. The Goblin King strutted down the improvised catwalk in a dazzling array of shiny, sequin-bedecked attire to modern pop music, winking and tossing his wild blonde mane in an decidedly vainglorious manner.

And things only went downhill when "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred came on.

In but a few measures, there were inappropriately gyrating goblins all over my living room, stripping off clothing and tossing it about with wild abandon, while Snig raced around frantically and tried to at least convince everyone to keep their pants on. Fortunately, I was mostly spared the probable scarring that witnessing such an event would have caused, due to the fact that Jareth was also stripping.

I had a vague notion that I should close my mouth to prevent drooling, but I'm not entirely sure the message made it all the way to my jaw.

A sudden silence alerted the thought-processing part of my brain, which was currently being ignored for safety reasons, that Jareth had sent his subjects home, and was continuing his dance solo. This was probably wise, as his number included an inordinate amount of Hip Wiggling and Teeth Flashing, with a bit of Dramatic Pointing thrown in to spice it up.

It didn't take long for me to decide that I should help him with the pants removal section, and things got _really_ interesting from there.

Later, as I lay snuggled up against my surprisingly limber Goblin King, I decided that, in time, I could probably forgive him for not sharing his eggnog, and drifted to sleep.

* * *

Stretching contentedly, I groaned at the creak of pleasantly used muscles, and smiled, nestling my head into my pillow -

And realized that it was, indeed, actually a _pillow_, and not a more comfortable section of the sexy-beyond-belief hunk that I had fallen asleep on.

Further investigation revealed that I was in the guest bed, rather than the slightly lumpy couch downstairs, and that I was dressed in my warm, fuzzy pj's again, and my limbs were suspiciously bite-mark free.

I realized I was dreaming when I went to put my bunny slippers on and they turned out to be actual bunnies.

Slipper-less, I padded my barefoot way to the stairs and crept down, peeking around the corner to the living room, and felt my eyes widen in surprise and possibly a bit of hormonal joy at his absolute deliciousness.

Jareth stood regally by the Christmas tree, dressed all in black and silver, with a single crystal rose in his hand. He smiled at me.

I managed to wrangle my libido back into its cage, and smiled back.

"Still sending me dreams, Jareth?" I asked. During Jareth's initial wooing of me, which he began a whopping three months after his defeat, he had sent me dreams at least once a week. After I agreed to date him, he eased up on the mental assault, but they were his primary contingency plan when I was feeling particularly grouchy at him, or when he wanted to talk about something without the hassle of reality.

Jareth rolled a wrist absently.

"Part of the territory, I'm afraid, darling - Keeper of Dreams, Granter of Wishes and all. Old habits die hard, precious thing," he replied. I rolled my eyes affectionately and stepped into the room, gesturing at his clothes.

"Mind explaining the formal wear?" I asked. He gave me a vaguely impatient glance.

"Perhaps in a moment, precious. I'm actually in the middle of something at present," he replied, and looked airily around, as though waiting for someone. I smirked.

"Oh, well, don't let me keep you. Might I ask, though, who you're waiting for?" I inquired, cocking my hands on my hips.

"My dance partner. A breathtakingly beautiful, sharply intelligent woman, with eyes like emerald razors and a tongue of velvet steel," he said, and his eyes traced over my face and neck with such intensity I could nearly _feel_ it brushing my skin. I felt my cheeks warm and I smiled at him.

"No one you would know," he added, smirking.

My smile tightened into a wry twist, and I cocked an eyebrow.

"You're right, doesn't ring a bell. Good luck finding her," I said tartly, and turned away, heading back up the stairs.

"Ah, there she is, now," he called, and I smirked, turning my head to call something worthy of a 'tongue of velvet steel', -

And realized that instead of my comfy flannel pj's, I was now dressed in an elegant black-and-silver dress to match Jareth's attire, complete with a silver and crystal necklace and strappy, sexy black heels.

I also noted that the neckline of my dress was revealingly low. Apparently, it was going to be one of _those_ dreams.

Jareth sauntered over, appreciatively considering my appearance, and stopped at the foot of the stairs, holding his hand out expectantly.

I heard from the living room as the graceful harp cascades of my favorite Christmas-y song, _Waltz of the Flowers_, started. Grinning in spite of myself, I descended the steps and graciously accepted Jareth's hand.

Before my stilettoed feet fully touched the floor, Jareth swept me into a fast spin, pulling me close and twirling the two of us as though we were in a grand ballroom rather than my parent's foyer. I laughed and clutched him tightly, trusting my partner to keep me from falling as we whirled. Without slowing his steps, Jareth slid his crystal rose behind my ear, and I felt its stem twist and weave itself into my hair to hold it securely in place. I smiled, reaching up to lightly trace its petals with my fingertips, as Jareth leaned his head down and placed a small kiss on my opposite ear.

"Close your eyes, precious," he murmured, and I obeyed with a shiver. There was a brief dizzying sensation, as though the world had suddenly sped up on its axis, and when I opened my eyes again, I stood in the middle of an enormous, ice-covered lake.

I squeaked and grabbed even tighter to Jareth, sure that the slippery surface below me would not be conducive to heeled movement.

He chuckled, and moved his hands to my waist. "Don't worry, darling, I'll not let you slip," he said reassuringly. I glared at him.

"Oh, that's convincing, seeing as _you're _on ice, too," I retorted. He grinned.

"Yes, but _I_ have a better relationship with the water sprites," he countered, and before I could tell if he was entirely serious or not, he snapped his fingers and the music struck up once more. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You don't _honestly_ expect me to dance, do you?" I asked incredulously. He grinned in a mildly conceited manner.

"Did I not say I wouldn't let you fall, love?" he said, and stepped forward in the beginning steps of our waltz. I hurriedly matched my steps to his, though far clumsier, to keep from being bowled over.

"Are you sure that Ice Waltzing is a good idea when the only one of us with unnatural balance has had four drinks?" I asked, my voice perhaps just a _tad_ shrill. Jareth grinned playfully at me.

"Of course not, darling, if you're looking at it from a sober point of view. However, from _my_ stance, Ice Waltzing after several drinks seems like a fabulous idea," he said, and winked. I thought I may have paled slightly and resolutely turned my gaze to my feet, where it firmly stayed.

Dancing on ice is extremely nerve-wracking.

I managed to keep a few inches of space between Jareth and me, which made my pride feel slightly less bruised, though I was by no means graceful. I often slipped, and it was mainly thanks to Jareth that I remained on my feet, though there was no way I was going to tell him that, seeing as it was his fault I was in danger of bruising my butt to begin with.

After a particularly close call, Jareth puffed out an exasperated breath and pulled me tight against him again, causing my stiletto-clad feet to slide immediately next to his own boots.

"_Trust_ me, precious," he whispered in my ear, and began dancing again.

I stiffened for a moment, positive we were both going to crash into the ice, but found instead that Jareth was a superb dancer, no matter what manner of dance floor was below him.

He moved as though he was on a reassuringly treaded floor, and rather than allow him to lead me, I simply kept my feet flush against his and slid with him. Now that I wasn't forced to concentrate solely on staying upright, my gaze was free to examine our surroundings, and I noticed more of where we were.

Snowy hills rose on all sides of the wide lake we had claimed, topped with green-black pines. The snow was unmarred, and the night air was still save for the disembodied music that drifted through it, as though we were the only living beings in the world. The night was illuminated by an enormous full moon, though I was fairly certain it was a waning, average-sized moon back at my house, and glittering starlight. Fluffy white flakes were still drifting down, though with far less enthusiasm than the raging blizzard back in reality, landing on Jareth's silvery hair and accenting his jacket. I smiled and lightly blew them off, and felt Jareth shiver slightly, his hands tightening on my waist. I grinned and raised a hand, brushing his hair back from his ear.

"It's lovely here," I whispered, and lightly kissed his jaw. "Thank you," I added.

He turned his head and nuzzled my hair in response. "Of course, darling. 'Tis nothing to move the stars for you," he teased. I cuffed him lightly on the shoulder, smiling in spite of myself, and took a deep breath as I released my strangle hold on him, peeling myself from my precautionary position plastered on his chest. Jareth moved with me, shifting an arm to better support me as his other hand took mine, and he smiled affectionately at me as I held my breath for the first few steps.

I quickly discovered, however, that dancing with Jareth also made _me_ a superb dancer, regardless the manner of dance floor beneath me. If I simply let my feet slide with his, and trusted him to hold me upright…

Jareth spun me out, and I shrieked as I skidded across the slick ice, laughing as I miraculously did _not_ face-plant on the frozen ground. Grinning, I slid myself back to him, and allowed myself to be whirled around in a dizzying, flowing waltz.

It was ridiculously fun.

With all the consummate ease of a professional dancer, Jareth flew us across the frozen dance floor, dipping and spinning and lifting me with enviable grace. I spun along carelessly, pretending I knew what I was doing, with a silly grin slapped on my face the whole time. The song bled into others, and I was unsure how long we danced on the moonlit lake before Jareth brushed my eyes closed again, and waltzed us back into my parents' living room.

Before I had recovered from the unusual form of transportation, Jareth took advantage of my distraction and kissed me senseless with his usual impeccable skill. By the time he withdrew enough to allow my need-scattered brain to resume higher function, he had placed one of his delicate crystals, wrapped in a red velvet ribbon, in my palm, and was closing my fingers over it.

I blinked at him a bit dimly for a moment, before looking down at the red-ribboned sphere in my hand.

"Open it tomorrow morning, Sarah," he said, and gave me an odd smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"I love you," he whispered, and before I could make a fool of myself gaping like a landed goldfish, the world dissolved around me and I realized I was being attacked.

"_Sarah!_ What, are you deaf? _WAKE UP!_" hollered a small, irritating blonde creature, as he attempted to wrench my nose off of my face. I swatted sleepily at him and realized that I was still holding Jareth's gift clenched in my fist.

"Is that your present? That's cheating!" Toby cried, scandalized, and promptly dashed from the room, yelling for my parents right this travesty. I rolled my eyes and hauled myself upright, praising the Gods of Decency that I was wearing my flannel jammies, and tugged on the ribbon.

The crystal dissolved in a small waterfall of glitter, revealing a small circular object nestled in its base. I tentatively picked it up, ignoring the way my stomach was suddenly full of butterflies and residing somewhere in my chest region, refusing to even _consider_ what it might be until I had inspected it…

It was a ring.

The band was made of what looked to be hundreds of hair-fine threads of silver, twisting and braiding among each other in choreographed chaos, meeting at the top to hold what I suspected was a tiny piece of a star. It shone with almost blinding intensity, and I decided to blame its brightness for the tears clouding my eyes.

As I held it, filaments of starlight wound down from the gem, tracing into words around the band. I blinked rapidly, squinting to read them -

_Entwined forever, my love and I - _

And promptly burst into tears.

"Yes, alright, Toby, I'll make sure she doesn't open anything," I heard Karen sigh, placating my little brother, and vainly tried to appear as though I _hadn't _just been bawling my eyes out as she walked in.

Karen the Ever Astute took one look at my face, tear-stained and grinning, glanced at the ring, and propped her hands on her hips.

"Sarah Marie Williams, I _forbid_ you to marry that man until we meet him," she said sternly, and I laughed, or sobbed, I'm not entirely sure which.

"Don't worry, Karen, I'll make sure he comes by later today," I assured her. She eyed me for a moment, as though assessing the probability of my honesty, before nodding and ushering a panicking Toby out of the room, explaining that Sissy's nervous breakdown was just Happy Tears.

Alternating between giggles and sniffles, I waited until they were safely in the kitchen, covered in pancake batter, before sneaking out into the foyer.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to reign in my mad-woman grin, and failed miserably.

"Jareth," I whispered.

"Well, that didn't take you long at all," he said from behind me, his voice tense with forced amusement. I weepy-grinned a little wider at the idea that Jareth might be nervous.

I didn't bother trying coherent speech, and instead threw my arms around his neck, kissing him as fiercely as possible while still sobbing in a delighted manner.

"I'll assume this means yes," Jareth said, his words smushed against my lips, and I laughed again, nodding as I released him and fumbled the ring onto my finger.

"Yes, yes, forever and always and even with the goblins, I love you so much," I babbled, and this time Jareth laughed.

"Even with the goblins? Well, last night must have _quite_-"

"_Ahem_."

Jareth and I turned toward the stairs, where my dad was warily watching his daughter cry, in a slobbery manner, all over a distinctly inhuman blonde guy that he had never seen before in his foyer.

"Hey, Dad," I sniffled. "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah… Ah, Sarah, who's this?" he asked, eyeing Jareth suspiciously.

"This is Jareth, Dad. My fiancé," I answered evenly, lying a hand on my Goblin King's chest and glancing at him. He was positively beaming.

Dad considered the new addition to his family for a moment, before smiling and offering his hand.

"Nice to finally meet you, son," he said.

"And you, sir," Jareth replied, and I doubt my father caught the sideways look he threw me. I grinned sheepishly.

"Jareth, is it?" Dad said, leading him into the kitchen, where I imagined pancakey warfare was still being waged. "Bit unusual. Where are you from?"

"Rather far away. Is that sausage I smell? Fantastic, I haven't…"

The two of them trailed off into the kitchen, chatting amiably, and I sighed contentedly.

The world hadn't ended after introducing my long-hidden boyfriend to my parents. Odd.

Taking another look at my ring, I followed, smiling at my family as I walked into flour-and-baking soda crossfire, and deciding that this Christmas may make the grade, after all.

* * *

**AN: **:D Reviews are cool!


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